


The End Of It (on hiatus till I get better)

by fishboi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is Suicidal, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Anxiety, Cutting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, More tags to be added, Slow Build, Slow Burn, alex gets rlly sick at one point, it goes wrong, selfharm, thomas saves the day, thomas takes care of him a lil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishboi/pseuds/fishboi
Summary: “I’m ready to end it all, and don’t you dare try to stop me.”





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas Jefferson was a lot of things in Alexander Hamilton’s opinion. A self centered prick was probably the most common one. And right now, that opinion was stronger than ever.

“We _have_ to get this plan through! Don't you realize how much it would help us out, Jefferson?” Alexander sneered at Jefferson, slamming his hands down on the table he was currently seated at. He went as far as to stand up to further prove his intention.

“And what _exactly_ does this help us out with?” Jefferson drawled, a self satisfied smirk on his face. He loved spiting his political nemesis to the point of a shouting match. Alexander was already halfway there.

“Have you even _read_ my plan? It explains _everything_ you need to know!” Hamilton exclaimed, ready to start a fight. It wouldn't have been the first time one of them had thrown punches, and George Washington knew it probably, sadly, disappointingly, and, annoyingly, it wouldn't be the last time.

“I don't need to read your plan to know it _sucks_.” Thomas dismissed. He was still smirking, but less as he was preparing to defend himself in case the other would fling himself at him.

“So you're admitting you couldn't even bother to look through my request before bashing it.” Alexander said and crossed his arms. Jefferson nodded lazily. He was bored already.

“I mean, it wouldn't be the first time something you wrote ended up with a disaster.”

Hamilton flinched and stiffened. He felt tears pricking at his eyes in mere seconds after the sentence. How dared Thomas bring that up in the middle of their meeting?

“I-” Alexander couldn't even stutter out a sentence. Argument be damned, he wanted to go home. Damn to Jefferson and his big mouth.

His ass must be jealous of all the shit his mouth is sputtering, Alex thought bitterly, opting not to cry. He couldn't show how weak that specific topic made him. Not in front of Thomas. Not in front of anyone. He sniffled a little, restraining the tears at his best capacity and weakly put his arms back down on the table.

“Rendered the Alexander Hamilton speechless? Impressive.” Thomas chuckled, his smirk widening when he saw that Hamilton wasn't going to start a fight this time. “What?” he purred smoothly, “can't handle the truth? My, oh my, Hamilton.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jefferson! You have no idea what you're talking about!” Alexander exclaimed, before being abruptly cut off by Washington.

“Hamilton! Language! This is a professional setting!”

Hamilton honestly felt like crying again. He was frustrated and full of emotion because Jefferson had to bring the thing up. Fucking hell.

“Aw, is little wittle Alexander going to cry?” Thomas mocked, observing the tears gathering in his enemy’s eyes.

And Alex broke.

All his emotions hit him like a truck, all at once, and he broke down in the middle of the cabinet. Everything was too much at once and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide. He felt shameful for crying in front of everyone, especially in front of Thomas who was probably more than happy with this. Hamilton couldn’t look up from the floor as he quickly gathered his things and sped out of the room.

Alexander went into his office, locking the door and threw himself into his desk chair, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was for breaking down over such rubbish. He was going to compose himself and then walk back in their and continue explaining his plan. He took a short two minutes to collect himself before taking a deep breath and standing up. He grabbed his things and headed back.

Once back inside, Hamilton sat calmly down at his desk, looking around the shock silenced room. He had their attention. Good. He stood up. “As I was saying before being rudely interrupted,”

-

God knows that Hamilton has never in his life, let anyone see that something hurt him. That’s why Thomas was so surprised to see him actually cry in front of everyone in the room. He returned though, an even bigger surprise to those who’d watched his breakdown. The man sat ever so graciously back down at his desk and seemed unbothered like he hadn’t just cried in front of the president and several cabinet members including Jefferson.

They all watched Hamilton intensely, waiting for his next move, everyone holding their breath as he stood up.

“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. To think he’d actually been the slightest of worried about making the little bastard cry. He should know better than to worry. Worrying lead to nothing but caring, and honestly, Jefferson could care less about Alexander. He wasn’t Washington. Not some care bear. Not obligated to care. He didn’t need to and so he didn’t.

Caring hurt.

Thomas quickly came to realize that he hadn’t been paying the slightest attention to what Hamilton had been saying, had only been watching the movement of the other’s mouth as he thought. He tried to zone back into what Alexander was saying but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to any word being spoken so smoothly like they’d been practiced so many many times before this. In reality, they probably had. Alex was a man of many words but was still flawed in his speech if talking about something new. So was Thomas. Washington. Everyone.

Eventually, Thomas managed to catch up to Hamilton’s fancy speech about whatever he’d planned for the topic of improving the system. He chewed at his lip in boredom, tapping his fingers on the table, wanting this to be over with already. How much could one man speak? And for how long? Thomas’ glance shot to the clock behind Washington’s desk. The little son of a bitch had been rambling for half an hour, literally five minutes after a total meltdown. How Hamilton was still standing, Jefferson would never understand, but the other just kept droning on that Washington eventually had to call quits.

“I think that’ll be enough for today. We’ll talk about this further tomorrow, you’re all dismissed.”

Alexander huffed a little, somewhat offended to be cut off like that, but accepted it nonetheless. He grabbed his things and made his way back to his office, undisturbed by others as no one bothered to ask if he was okay. They suspect I am, he thought, or are too shocked to do anything.

It was fine by him. The less people talked to him, the more time he had to work.

Work.

Work was Hamilton’s saving grace at this point. It distracted him from the bad points in his life (and there’d been quite a lot of those, from his unfortunate childhood to his recent break up with his now ex girlfriend Elizabeth Schuyler) and made room for better things to have his mind on. Such as governing.

When he worked, it was almost nonstop and to everyone’s surprise, he still hadn’t dropped dead in the middle of a thousandth essay he’d begun on. Not that they expected him to, but there was the occasional worried glance in his direction when he was shaking particularly much from lack of sleep. Hamilton plowed through though.

A sharp knock on his office door snapped Alex out of his work space. The doorknob turned and Washington was soon visible in the doorway, his chest puffed out in the way it’d always do when something serious was on the table. Hamilton looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Sir. What can I help you with?” Alexander asked for a greeting, meeting Washington’s eyes. When Washington said nothing at first, Hamilton coughed awkwardly. “Sir?”

“Son.”  
“Notcha son-”  
“What happened out there?”

Alex hesitated. He didn't want to talk about it. He honestly wanted to just forget it completely. He never cried. It was stupid.

“It was nothing sir, it won't happen again.” Alexander said reassuringly, a far fetched smile on his face. He wanted Washington to know he was fine, because he was. He was more than fine, really.

“Are you sure? You could take the rest of the day off-”  
“Sir, with all due respect, I'd rather stay. I have work to do.”

Washington took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew very well that Alexander was way in front of his work.

“Work from home. I don't want to see you in the office more today. Or tomorrow.” he insisted.

“But sir-”  
“Go home, Alexander.” Washington cut him off. There was left no room for argument. Hamilton sighed. He hated that he couldn't go up against the other. He doubted Washington would fire him for talking back, but when the man had decided for something, there was almost no changing his mind.

Hamilton gathered his things, shoved them into his suitcase and bid Washington a goodbye before walking right past him to get out. He was surprised when Jefferson didn't comment on his early leave when Alex passed his enemy’s office. Maybe the asshat finally got into his thick skull that not everything was his business. Not that Alexander cared, he was just used it.

When he finally left the White House doors, he was rather annoyed. He still couldn’t believe Washington had made him leave for the day and the next, and that it was all because Hamilton had cried just a little bit. This was why he hated showing it when he cried. Everyone pitied him. Always pity the cryer.

Alex huffed and turned on the car, driving to his apartment complex. He took the elevator, not bothering the stairs, and as soon as he made it to his floor, sped inside his apartment. He threw his suitcase next to the couch and plopped down into it, breathing out a sigh. His hands were itching to write already, to do something to distract himself from his oncoming headache. He just had no idea what.

He could work, of course, but Washington would be angry with him when he saw an email with a file to a docs document attached with some essay about how to improve this and how to improve that. And since he was practically as high as anyone with his background could get, no one but Washington was his boss, therefore no one to send the emails to except him. The only circumstances that lead to him emailing his coworkers would be to collaborate on a bill or simply to pass on a message from Washington himself.

Something about it got the better of him though and he shuffled through his suitcase in search of his laptop. Once he had it, he placed it in his lap and opened it, typing in his password. A quick security check and he was in, already opening the document. He smiled as he cracked his knuckles and began to furiously type. He was going to work further on his plan until Jefferson could do nothing but agree with him.

Alexander worked for hours, time not being a concept once he was in his zone. He thought about how smug he’d be once he saw Thomas fumble to argue but not being able to find a single flaw in his plan. He’d sputter our lame excuses but never being able to give a reasonable one. Hamilton felt the smirk already forming on his face. He was going to absolutely chew Thomas out.

Another hour passed before Hamilton finally checked the time and gasped a little at how late it was. He’d forgotten to eat again and completely disregarded feeding his fish. He put his laptop to the side, got up to prioritize feeding his small neon coloured fish before pulling out some leftovers from a few days ago and reheating it in the microwave. While he waited, he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the couch where he promised himself to pick it up later, and stretched. He was going to eat and then go to bed, having a whole day to work on his bill the next day.

Once the microwave dinged, signaling his food was done, he took the plate and sat down at the dinner table. He dug in, eating slowly, making sure he wouldn’t eat more than he wanted. His eyes fell to the arm that was currently grabbing tightly at his fork. It looked better than yesterday. He smiled softly. It was progress.

Hamilton finished his dinner far too quick for his own liking as he dreaded going to sleep. He wanted to work still. He sighed. He knew that he needed the sleep. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever and his work had slacked slightly over the course of the week. He needed to rest for once. He went to close his laptop and retired to bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day when Alexander woke up, he was barely alive. Okay, that might have been exaggeration, but the man couldn’t function without his coffee. And he just so happened to have run out of beans. Why didn’t he check?

 _Stupid_.

He cursed at himself under his breath and threw himself into a chair at the dinner table. He rested his head in his hands, his eyelids heavy with the lack of sleep, his bones lead from exhaustion. Maybe barely alive wasn’t overdoing it anyways. He felt terrible. Couldn’t bother to get up and take his medicine, just stared at the blank and smooth surface of his cheap, white plastic table. He would be fine without his meds anyways, he reassured himself. He checked the time. 7:28AM. Work began in two minutes and he wanted so desperately to go even though he’d be late, but once Washington had put his mind to something, Hamilton was without power to change it.

He sighed. Inhaled deeply. Exhaled. When was the last time he’d drank something? Basic human care wasn’t on the priority list for Alexander. It was working. Working, because work made him forget, and when he forgot, there was no need for neither his meds or human needs. When he worked he was at peace. He could feel a headache incoming.

Fuck.

He groaned and got up to find some painkillers, dry swallowed them, and flopped onto his couch, pulling his laptop up from where it had taken a place between the cushions. He was going to work until he felt better. Like he always did. He hummed a random tune to himself as he booted the laptop up, typing in the password, going through the checks and soon found himself in the same docs document he’d been on the day prior. He began typing.

-

Thomas fiddled around with a pen. He was nervous, had to present an argument for something he couldn’t remember at the moment, and Hamilton hadn’t showed up yet. Screaming at the other man always calmed his nerves and he knew the same was the case for Alexander himself. That’s how their dynamic worked. They got to scream out their frustration and was left calm and satisfied afterwards. Except..

That wasn’t how it played out yesterday. Alexander had been in tears and despite their constant arguing, Jefferson wasn’t cold hearted, wasn’t made of rock solid walls that kept him and Hamilton at a constant distance. He didn’t hate Hamilton. He actually cared about the man. He regretted making the other cry and it being in front of a crowd made the entire thing worse. Thomas was a lot of things, but uncaring wasn’t one of them.

As much as they fought, Thomas couldn’t bring himself to hate Alex. Even if their relationship was filled with nothing but constant fighting, arguing, and occasional punches, he didn’t hate Alexander. Couldn’t. The only thing he hated was to admit that he had a soft spot for Hamilton. It was filled with pity and care at the same time and it confused the fuck out of Thomas who was so used to Hamilton hating him. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no hate. No heat behind his taunting. He tried to treat Alexander like he was a fragile piece of glass, a wounded animal that needed his care. Not because he wanted to, but because every time Hamilton walked past Thomas’ office he could see the man looking more exhausted by the hour, never seeming to take a break and take care of himself. And Jefferson doubted he actually took care of himself. He’d seen the way the other shivered at the smallest breeze, too thin to make warmth for himself. He’d seen the bags under Alex’s eyes, seeming to grow impossibly bigger every time they crossed paths. One time, Thomas had caught sight of the man’s wrist when his jacket sleeve got pulled back when he was pointing at Jefferson to say a less than subtle rude comment about him. Thomas’ heart sank at the mere thought.

So yeah. Thomas cared about Alexander. And cared a lot. He’d never admit it though, and especially not to Hamilton himself. He’d be a fool and the other would laugh at it for days on end, mock him with it and bring it up in cabinet meetings like the immature shit he was.

_“But Jefferson, I thought you cared about me?”_

The prick would say with a self satisfied smirk. That’s why Thomas didn’t want to care. Because despite everything that would go on if he admitted to caring, admitted wanting to of Hamilton, the latter would always hate him. And Thomas was fine with it. He had to be fine with it. How else would he get by? So, if he pretended to hate Hamilton as much as he knew Hamilton hated him, their dynamic, their little game, would continue on smoothly. Care didn’t belong in a hate/hate relationship like theirs. Thomas couldn’t help himself but shoot a quick text to the other though.

_Thomas: are you sick?_

Jefferson honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Hamilton was sick. He didn’t remember seeing the man eat at all the past few days, at least not while at work. And he’d left early the other day.

Half an hour passed before Thomas got a text back.

_gremlin: no, why?_

_Thomas: youre not at work_

_gremlin: oh wow, i wasnt aware_

_Thomas: i was just asking asshole. why arent you at work?_

_gremlin: why do you care?_

_Thomas: i dont, but i miss something to shout at_

_gremlin: rude_

_Thomas: answer my question fucker_

_gremlin: washington sent me home_

Thomas snorted. Washington had sent Alexander home, and he’d obeyed. For once.

_Thomas: so daddy washington sent little wittle alexander home_

_gremlin: youre so gross oh my god. shut up_

_Thomas: gremlin_

_gremlin thom-ass_

_Thomas: why did you even listen to washington as a first? its not like he hasnt sent you home before and done nothing when you came anyways_

_gremlin: to be honest,, i think i needed this_

Jefferson frowned at that. Hamilton? Taking a break? That wasn’t right. Hamilton wouldn’t take a break even if his life depended on it. Now that Thomas thought about it, Hamilton’s life could as well be depending on it.

_Thomas: take care?_

His finger hovered over send for a full two minutes before eventually clicking. He regret it only a little but as soon as he saw the three small dots indicating that Alexander was typing, he knew it was too late to take it back.

_gremlin: yeah sure whatever_

Thomas read the message a few times. There was little bite to the message if any at all. Not what he’d expected, but he wasn’t complaining.

_Thomas: thank you_

Thomas shut off his phone and put it next to his laptop as he began working again. He could finally concentrate and found himself less nervous about the speech than before. Maybe it was just generally talking to Alex that calmed him. This was different though. He wasn’t riled up in that completely satisfying and calm way, he was just relaxed this time. He sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair, wincing when his fingers caught in one of them.

A quiet ‘ding’ ringed from his phone and caught Thomas’ attention as he looked down at it’s now lit screen.

_gremlin: why do you care tho?_

It was exactly what Jefferson was expecting and fearing at the same time.

_Thomas: as i said, I don’t care. im just making sure you don’t accidentally kill yourself. id miss our shouting matches_

_gremlin: haha, come on tough guy you can tell me? is it because you wuv me twomas owo_

Jefferson felt himself psychically cringe at the message.

_Thomas: you disgust me_

_gremlin: lmao_

There wasn’t a follow up message. Thomas put his phone away again just as someone knocked on his office door. Thomas muttered a small ‘come in’, beginning to type in his work again. Washington opened the door and stepped inside

“Sir.”  
“Jefferson. I’m just here to make sure you didn’t forget about your meeting later?”  
“Not at all Sir.”  
“Good.”

Silence.

“They expected you ten minutes ago.”

Thomas’ eyes widened as he shut the lid to his laptop and instantly stood up. How had he forgotten? He shoved his phone in his pocket and rushed out past Washington, laptop cushioned in his arms.

-

Alexander read the message over and over again.

_take care?_

Why would Thomas care about that? It wasn’t like the other hadn’t made him break into sobs just the other day. And then mocked him for it. This sudden change confused Alex more than his tired brain could process and his headache came back. He figured he’d just keep taking painkillers until it stopped. Shrugged off common sense and got up to pop a third and fourth pill that hour. When it only caused the pain to throb even more he took a fifth and sixth pill and decided to sleep. To hell with everything else. He went back to his bedroom, clutching his stomach slightly. It hurt. Maybe if he took an seventh and eighth pill, it would stop? He ultimately decided against it and just tried to sleep instead. He eventually found peace.

-

When Hamilton woke up, he didn’t feel all that great. He was even more tired than he’d been earlier, his bones felt heavier and his stomach still faintly hurt. He rolled over to grab his phone and look at the time. He hadn’t slept for too long but certainly longer than he’d wanted to. Should’ve set an alarm.

 _Stupid_.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up and let the world slowly cease to exist, or even better, have himself cease to exist. He got up though, his body feeling numb. He wanted to feel something, he really did. He had two options: he could dress up and go to work and it would distract him until he was feeling better. Or. Or, he could inflict himself pain, force himself to feel something until the numbness was away. He thought, eventually coming up with a million other options, none of them seeming the least of appealing, but they were an alternative.

He could go buy coffee. If he did it now, he wouldn't have to deal with it later or have a grim reminder in the morning of his own foolishness when he'd realize he'd forgotten to get some at all. Yes, he decided, that would do. That way he could get the slightly chilly autumn air to wake him up. Because that was what he wanted. He wanted to wake up and smell the flowers and be happy. But right now, happy was walking outside in a t-shirt to go get coffee so he would be somewhat awake the next day.

He took two painkillers on his way out, completely disregarding that he probably, most definitely shouldn't take more for the day. He took them dry, again, coughing a little. He was fine. He put on a t-shirt, some old one he'd had for years as his tiny frame didn't change a bit, if any, he had gotten smaller. He yawned, his eyes heavy, but went out the door nonetheless, steadying himself on the door when a slight dizziness hit him. He was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a hoe for comments


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his meeting to end. He realized halfway through, that he’d forgotten to pay attention, and even now, he way only paying half mind as to what they were talking about.

“What do you think mr. Jefferson?” someone had asked him and he’d snapped back.

“Uhh.” he said eloquently, sitting up correctly. “I think we need to run this over again in another meeting.”

“Good thinking Sir, this plan seems far from done.”

Jefferson breathed out a sigh of relief and shot a look James Madison’s way, a look basically screaming ‘you need to help me with this’ and James rolled his eyes. He nodded though and Thomas was relieved once more. Thomas knew that James knew that a lot of stuff had been bothering him lately. The stuff mostly being Hamilton, but his bothersomeness was nothing new to speak of. No, a lot of things hadn’t been going right for Thomas the past few weeks, and he was stressed out. That’s why James, without needing to be asked, listened extra carefully in meetings for the sake of delivering to Jefferson afterwards when the man hadn’t been paying even somewhat attention. That’s why Jefferson loved James.

Madison and Jefferson had been friends for a long time. They’d even tried dating a while back and came to the conclusion they were better off as friends. Their failed attempt at a relationship didn’t bring them further apart though, if anything, it brought them closer to each other. They honestly still acted like a couple, small forehead kisses when the other was stressed, bringing coffee to one another in the mornings, and always checking up to see if the other was doing okay, most occasions, multiple times a day.

When the meeting was dismissed, Thomas was the first to leave the room. He needed space to clear his mind of something he couldn’t quite figure out what was. He just knew he needed room. He swaggered to his office, the ever so known grin on his face as he tried to act like nothing was currently gnawing at his mind. It felt wrong, and it was forced, but he smiled nonetheless and didn’t stop till he was inside his office and had shut the door behind him. He breathed in and exhaled heavily, slumping over as his body relaxed. He waddled to his chair and plopped himself down into it. He sat there for a while, face buried in his hands as he cleared his mind of anything bad that might have poisoned it.

Eventually, there was a knock on Thomas’ door. He groaned a ‘come in’ before lifting his head from his hands to look at who dared disturb his resting time. When James walked in, he couldn’t help the soft smile creeping onto his lips.

“Hey, Jimmy James.” he said. Madison smiled too.

“I brought some notes from the meeting.” he said and went fully into Thomas’ office. He set a stack of papers on the desk, and Thomas’ smile widened.

“I can always rely on you.” Jefferson hummed and stood up to wrap his arms around James. Madison hugged him back and they stood there for a while, Jefferson’s head resting on James’. It was nice and content. When they pulled away, they were both smiling from ear to ear, happy in each other’s company.

“Thank you, Jemmy.” Thomas said, and kissed James’ forehead.

“It’s no problem, Thomas, really. I know a lot’s been going on lately.” James murmured and gently patted Thomas’ shoulder. “Besides, you always take notes for me when I’m sick. And I’m sick a lot.” Jefferson chuckled.

“That’s what friends do.”  
“Indeed.”

-

When Alexander came back from the store, his hair was wind blown, his body cold and shivering. It had suddenly gotten extremely windy out and his stubbornness made him refuse to go back and get something thicker on. Who cared if he got sick anyways? He certainly didn’t. He kitten sneezed as he put his things on the counter. He was wide awake by this point so coffee seemed unnecessary but he went to make some anyways. It was better than breaking out the alcohol. He went to get a blanket as the coffee brewed, wanting to get the warmth back in his body as quickly as possible. He wrapped it around his small frame, and waited patiently for his coffee to be done.

Once it was, he took the mug in both hands and sat down on his couch, turning on the TV. He pulled his knees to his chest and watched some random documentary on Animal Planet while sipping on his coffee. As much as he wanted to work, he slowly came to realize that, maybe, just maybe, an occasional break wasn’t too bad. the he laughed at himself. He didn’t need breaks, he was just being whiny. No, as soon as work started tomorrow, he’d be there right on time like always. What was he supposed to do at home when he couldn’t work?

He took another sip of his coffee and his face soured when he really tasted it. In his rush to get home, he’d picked up the wrong kind. Great. It had happened before, but not when his patience had been so fragile and thin like it was now. He just wanted some goddamn coffee, why was that too much to ask for? He sighed and put the cup down, ready to go to the store again, this time in a car though. He didn’t want to deal with the store, or bad coffee, or anything for that matter. Not right now. He just wanted to curl up in his blanket and watch the stupid documentary and take more painkillers for the newly arrived headache from the cold. To think some shit coffee was really pushing him to the edge like this. How pathetic.

He took a deep breath to ground himself. Right now wasn’t the time to do something stupid. Washington would be the first to know if he tried anything and didn’t come to work tomorrow. Alexander wouldn’t want that. He knew it was dumb. He knew it. But it didn’t stop him from wanting it. The desire to hurt himself burned like fire in his chest as he choked back a sob. He just wanted to work. He took another deep breath and pulled out his laptop. He was going to work this away like he did with everything else. Bury his problems with a ton of work so he didn’t have to think about it. He opened the lid and typed in the password, went through the checks and began working. It was better like this.

He worked for hours on end and soon enough it was evening already. He sighed and decided that enough was enough and shut the lid after turning his laptop off. He put it on the coffee table next to his long since abandoned mug and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. He sat and stared at nothing for a while, the only noise in the background being the TV that he’d forgotten to turn off. He pondered on what to do next seeing as he was done working for today, when his phone lit up and a soft ‘ding’ emitted from it. He stood up to grab it from the kitchen counter and looked at who it was. Thomas.

  
_Thom-ass: youre still coming to work tomorrow tho right?_

_Hamman: yeah_

_Thom-ass: good_

And that was that. Jefferson didn’t send any more texts after that and Alexander wondered why Thomas even bothered to text him in the first place. It wasn’t like him to randomly text whenever unless they’d been in an argument they needed to finish off without Washington sending both of them home to cool down. He shrugged it off as Thomas just missing something to land verbal punches at, and put his phone back down. Thomas could honestly care less whether or not Hamilton showed up. If anything, it made it easier for Jefferson to get all his things through when he could focus on them instead of focusing on fighting with a certain other person. In hindsight, if Hamilton resigned, everything would be a lot easier for Thomas. Not that Hamilton cared whether he made things easy for his enemy or not, in fact, he couldn’t care less about exactly how difficult and distracting he made it for Thomas.

As long as the asshole ate dirt, Alexander was satisfied. Although he had no idea why it brought him such satisfaction to watch Thomas struggle. Perhaps it was the fact that Thomas hated him. Yes, that was it. The fact that Thomas hated him, made it fun for Alex to watch him stutter and watch his face twist when he couldn’t find an argument to bash Hamilton with. Then he thought back to what had happened yesterday.

_“Aw, is little wittle Alexander going to cry?”_

It had hurt, a lot, that as soon as Alexander had showed the slightest sign of weakness, he was being mocked for it like it was inhuman to cry. But really, it wasn’t like Alex to cry in front of people. He didn’t like the pity that followed and had learned to compose himself before he could shed as much as a tear. But as soon as he got home, his walls were torn down and he cried. A lot. But this time was different. Something had snapped in him and he’d broken down in the middle of the meeting. It was embarrassing for him. He hated it. He hated being weak.

He considered texting Thomas, that he was gonna beat his ass tomorrow, but thought better of it. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to face a fight head on just yet. He sighed resigned at his own thoughts, his usually smart and quick witted head doing nothing for him at the moment. He didn’t feel great either. Despite the warmth of the house and the blanket he still kept wrapped tightly around himself, he was a little cold. He could almost physically feel how pale his face was, his bony hand reaching up to rub warmth into a cheek.

He hadn’t eaten today, he realized, and maybe that was why he felt like shit. He groaned at the thought of having to eat something, feeling sick to his stomach about it, but decided sorrowfully that it wouldn’t do without food. He took his sweet time making his way to the fridge and slowly but surely opened the door. Another realization hit him as he stared at the mostly empty fridge. He’d forgotten to check if he needed actual food before heading out. He slammed his head into a cupboard, cursing his own stupidity. He really didn’t want to go out again. He considered calling one of his friends to pick something up for him or just order take out but he didn’t want to bother anyone. And then his mind shifted to someone he wouldn’t mind bothering.

_Hamman: jefferson_

It was probably a dumb idea, but Thomas most likely wasn’t even at work anymore and Hamilton really really was starting to feel the hunger build up from the days of neglecting simple things like eating. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand.

_Thom-ass: what do you want_

_Hamman: i havent eaten today and i have nothing in the fridge.. could you maybe bring something over after work?_

_Thom-ass: why dont you ask one of your friends?_

_Hamman: dont wanna bother them_

_Thom-ass: but its okay to bother me?_

_Hamman: ofc_

No reply for a while. Alex frowned at his phone as he was left on read and he assumed that Thomas was just going to ignore him until tomorrow. That is, until after five minutes of nothing, he finally got a message.

_Thom-ass: told washington i had to pick food up for you sorry ass_

_Hamman: whyd you get gwash involved?_

_Thom-ass: because he needs to know you dont take proper care of yourself so he can mother hen you about it till you do_

Alexander rolled his eyes.

_Hamman: wow thanks._

_Thom-ass: no problem sweetheart muah_

_Hamman: ew gross_

_Thom-ass: ;)_

Hamilton put his phone down. At least Thomas was bringing him food. He sat for a minute before picking up his phone again.

_Hamman: bring some coffee too_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a hoe for comments


	4. Chapter 4

Alexander waited patiently on his couch for Thomas to arrive. The other knew his address, having been invited over once before to a small party/gathering because his friend, Lafayette, had insisted on inviting Thomas over, seeing as Laf was equally good friends with both of them. How Laf could even stand Jefferson was a mystery to Alex, but he just went with it and invited the other over, making sure to remark he was doing it for Laf’s sake.

As soon as he doorbell rang, Hamilton got up and nearly fell in the process, black spots dancing across his eyes from the lack of something to drink that day. He wasn’t fond of the headache following suit, but ignored it in favour of pulling the door open.

Thomas was met by the extremely pale face of Hamilton once the door swung open. He cringed a little, hating to see how badly the latter was taking care of himself to look like that. Alexander honestly looked ready to pass out then and there, and Thomas feared he was going to. A small smile tugged at Alex’s lips and it sent most of Jefferson’s worries away. He couldn’t help the small frown though.

“You look like shit.”  
“I know.”

Came Hamilton’s short response as he stepped out of the way to let Thomas in. Jefferson watched as Hamilton made his way to pick up an opened packet of painkillers and pop two in his mouth.

“How many of those have you taken today?” Jefferson asked, lifting a brow. Hamilton just shrugged.

“Like, eight… or ten. I lost count.” he said and Thomas felt his stomach sink.

“Spit them out.”  
“What?”  
“Spit the out.”  
“Jefferson, I already swallowed them, I can’t just-”  
“Throw them up then.”

Alex looked genuinely offended at Thomas’ demands and shook his head.

“You came to bring me food and coffee, not to parent me. Since when did you care anyways?” he asked, crossing his arms. Jefferson just shook his head.

“I’ve already said this multiple times today, I don’t care, hell, you could burst into flames and I wouldn’t piss on you to save you.” Jefferson complained, crossing his arms as well. Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Just give me the food, asshole.”

Thomas sighed and placed a bag Hamilton had failed to notice before, on the counter and began un-stocking it. Hamilton was slightly surprised at the wide arrangement of groceries and several ready dishes.

“Want me to cook for you too?” Jefferson asked mockingly, and Alexander stuck his tongue out.

“I can take care of myself.”  
“Yet I had to stop by with food.”  
“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean.”  
“Do I, Hamilton?”  
“Shh, I’m trying to be thankful but you’re making it hard.”

Jefferson chuckled.

“Thankful? For something I did?” he asked and cocked his brow again. Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I actually am, and I’m trying my best thank you very much. You’re not the absolute worst when you’re bringing me food.”  
“Why, Hamilton, do I spot a compliment?”  
“Yes, shut up and take it before I punch your teeth in.”  
“Tsk, turning to violence already.”

Thomas said over dramatically. If Alex continued rolling his eyes like he were, they’d be sure to eventually roll out of his head.

“You know when I’m joking.” he remarked and watched a small smile form on Thomas’ lips.

“I know but I like teasing you. You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

Hamilton stuck out his tongue again, childish as it was, and strided over to Jefferson to properly look at what the latter had come with. Hamilton nodded his approval at it and hummed a little as he began stocking his fridge. Jefferson watched him, feeling slightly awkward as he didn’t know whether to leave or not. He was used to a goodbye, but seeing as this was Hamilton, he probably wasn’t getting one. So he stood in his so called nemesis’ kitchen, awkwardly, while said person was casually putting things away. He coughed politely and Alexander, seemingly in a somewhat good mood, turned to look at Thomas.

“Oh you’re still here.” he said, turning back to face the fridge as he finished filling it up. Once done, he turned to fully face Thomas again, slouching on the kitchen counter, way too casual for anything they were both used to in their usually working dynamic.

“You haven’t exactly told me to leave.” Thomas answered.

“I guess not. But you can leave now,” Hamilton said, making his way to open the door for Jefferson. “Thanks, by the way. I don’t look like it, but I actually really appreciate this. I’ve already been out today and I wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of going out again. Tell Washington I told you thanks though, and I will kill you.” he said, the last bit jokingly stern.

“Unless I poisoned the food. Then you’re the dead one,” Jefferson said as he made his way out the door. He was halfway out before he turned slightly to look at the other. “You’re welcome.”

And then he left.

-

The next day, everything was supposed to go back to normal. Alex would wake up from what could only be described as a nap and would get ready. He’d feed his fish on his way out, grabbing some freshly brewed coffee (the good kind that Thomas brought him) and head to his office. However, it didn’t turn out that way.

Hamilton woke up in a pissy mood. It was one of those days you knew was gonna be bad Already from the beginning. Why he was so upset, he didn’t know, he just knew he was upset. He needed to shout at something, hadn’t been shouting for an extended period of time where he’d needed it. When he’d been so riled up over nothing the other day and hadn’t been able to scream. It was ridiculous, he knew that, and now he couldn’t wait to get to work so the first thing he could do was yell at Jefferson.

 

All this build up anger faded as soon as he got to his desk. There, in the middle of the wooden table, sat a cup of coffee with a little note attached.

Because I know you probably forgot to get some for yourself you tiny gremlin

And Alex instantly knew who it was from. He cocked his eyebrow at the coffee, considering throwing it out for a moment before just shrugging. Who would waste perfectly good coffee? That was free on top of it all. But then he thought for a moment. Perhaps, it wasn’t perfectly good. For all he knew, Thomas could’ve spat in it. Resigned, he decided not to drink it. He went to pour it out in the nearest water fountain when he caught eight of who he absolutely did not want to see pour out his coffee.

Like god himself had decided that today wasn’t his day, Jefferson was swaggering along the hallway, probably on his way to his own office when his eyes fell on Alexander. His glance slipped from the other’s face, slowly but surely to his extended arm that was currently in the midst of pouring out the contents of the paper cup. A sneer reaches Thomas’ face as he looked displeased with Hamilton, but said nothing as he stormed past the other, his walk now more of a stomping rather than gliding elegantly across the floor. Alexander would never admit it, but he felt a little guilty as the rest of the coffee was dumped down the drain. He no longer felt like shouting at Thomas either.

He went back to his office and pulled out his laptop and began working. He had put the coffee incident out of his head so he’d be able to focus strictly on working, and so far, it was paying off. Not feeling at all was better than feeling guilty. He reached to take a sip of coffee and his hand grasped around nothing and he lightly slapped his forehead in a low ‘duh’. He felt dumb for letting a simple cup of some hot drink get to him like this but he couldn’t help feel the guilt come back, weighing down on his stomach as it sank along with his mood. He groaned in annoyance at himself and his unnecessary feelings coming back to bite him in the ass.

Running a hand through his slightly greasy hair, he slowly tried to zone back in on his writing. He still wasn’t entirely done with his plan, but he was close. He wasn’t gonna let some stupid cup of coffee distract and bother him, especially not since he wasn’t fond of Thomas in the first place. But he could really have used that coffee. Well, he thought, done is done, and it’s not like he trusted Jefferson to bring him actually good coffee. Except for yesterday when Jefferson had brought him actually good coffee. Oh.

He felt stupid, and he felt rude, and it was all over some goddamn coffee. Coffee coffee coffee. The word tasted weird in his mouth, wrong, he’d thought about it so much that the word sounded fake.

“Ugh…” he groaned, burying his head in his hands. It wasn’t like him to feel bad about something he did to Thomas. He’d punched the guy before without feeling the slightest bit of regret, why was it changing now? Was it because the other had brought him food? Was that really it? Such a small gesture? From someone he hated? Maybe didn’t hate exactly, but it was darn close and Hamilton liked it that way. Their mutual ‘hatred’ for each other worked out in both their favours, they got to let out some steam and then got to be relaxed and concentrated afterwards. Unless the argument had been really bad and they were both on a high and couldn’t calm down enough to work at all. They’d pace their offices, full of energy.

Hamilton eventually decided that he couldn’t work right now. He needed a break. Cringed at himself at the mere thought of doing it after he’d had two days off, but in his defense, he’d still worked then and he was still feeling sick from yesterday. Not that he’d ever admit to it though. Being sick meant being weak, and Hamilton was not weak. He huffed and thought better of the break. He just needed to think for a bit, that was all.

He stood up and began pacing. He rubbed his temples, trying to force himself to think, and that’s how Washington found him. Washington has gently knocked on the door and hadn’t waited for permission to come in. He stepped inside and watched Alexander walk for a good minute before coughing lightly to catch the other’s attention. Alexander stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Washington.

“Son.”  
“Notcha son.”  
“How are you feeling?”

Alex hesitated for a little, bit not exactly knowing how to answer. Truth to be told, he had no idea how he felt. He was okay, he guessed, nothing more, nothing less.

“Jefferson said he stopped by your house yesterday because you’d forgotten to get yourself food?” Washington asked and Alexander halted in what he was about to say.

“That’s correct.” he said, as casually as he could muster. Jefferson had brought him food. And coffee. And what did Hamilton do to thank him? Nothing, Hamilton argued internally, nothing, and it’s stay like that. He shouldn’t have to do anything for Thomas.

“How nice of him. I thought you two hated each other?”  
“We do, Sir.”  
“Sure doesn’t seem like it anymore.”  
“Sir, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but whatever it is, it’s wrong.”

Washington chuckled then, shaking his head a little.

“Keep telling yourself that, son.” he said, and with that statement he left, Alex standing back to his own devices. Hamilton sat back down at his desk, determined to not let Washington find him pacing again that day, as he finally got back to work. He trailed off occasionally, but was quick to focus again, as he typed furiously on his laptop. It wasn’t before a yawn tore through his body that he checked the time. Lunch had passed already and he’d forgotten to eat something. Again. In fact, he’d been working for hours despite it only feeling like a couple of minutes. When Alexander wrote, time wasn’t real. Everyone he’s ever met came to learn that very quickly. He decided that he might as well just continue working until he was off and then eat something once he got home. Yawning again, cursing his tiredness, he went silently back to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Once Alexander was home that same day, the first thing he did was get a cup of coffee. As much as he wanted to do literally anything else with his time, something productive, he knew he needed it unless he wanted to pass out. His legs were wobbly as he stepped inside, being careful not to fall as he leaned on anything in his path as he stumbled to the kitchen. He yawned, resigned, and started brewing his coffee, waiting impatiently for it to finish so he could finally get going with his after-work work. He was still thinking about the incident from earlier that day, not really able to forget it as guilt gnawed at him. It wasn’t a lot of guilt, as he could care less about Jefferson and his stupid coffee, but still guilt. For whatever reason, Thomas had tried to be nice, and Hamilton had never been able to be angry with people when they were trying. Not even with Jefferson.

He carefully sipped at his coffee, swirling it around in his hand as he thought, not exactly sure where his thoughts were. Everywhere, he guessed vaguely. His mind was fluttering from subject to subject, never settling down long enough for Alex to figure out what the specific thing was about. He didn’t know what to do about it, but let it happen as he put himself inside his noisy head, thinking about everything and nothing all at the same time. He absently finished his coffee, not noticing he was done before he went to take a swig only to find nothing there. He snapped out of thought long enough to pour himself another cup and then went back into his own head.

It was strange, how all the noise but calmed and stressed him all the same. It calmed him to have nothing to do with himself so he wouldn’t feel useless, but stressed because of all the noise coming at him non-stop, never a break, never anything, just noise, noise, noise. It was infuriating just how confused his head was all the time, as it sometimes prevented him from working and therefore prevented him for feeling useful. And when he wasn’t feeling useful, he doubted himself and his worth, doubted his entire existence in general, because if he wasn’t useful, then what purpose did he even serve anymore? No, he was perfectly content with working himself half to death, taking a break only to fuel himself with coffee, and then go back to work. If working till his body physically couldn’t properly function anymore, then fine by him, as long as he proved he was worth something.

Alexander wasn’t exactly confident with himself, but he knew when he was being useful and when he wasn’t. And right now, buried in his own thoughts as he nursed a second cup of coffee, he knew he wasn’t. So instead of thinking about nothing and everything, he thought about what he could do for work. His body was weakly protesting that he’d stop for today, but Alexander was determined to get something done. His mind was blank, however, completely empty of ideas as Washington had begun sharing documents with him and then locking him out of them after work was over, so he couldn’t write on his projects unnecessarily at home. A smart trick, Alexander mused, annoyed but impressed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to work on the specific text again before tomorrow, so he sighed, downed his coffee, and plopped onto the couch. He sighed heavily and put a hand to his forehead, slowly running higher to drag it through his hair. He licked his slightly chapped lips, exhaling heavily as he lied down completely. He was sweating, he noticed, and cursed himself for still wearing his suit while doing so. Why was he even sweating? He wasn’t exactly doing any physical activity, and it certainly wasn’t warm enough for him to be too hot. He sighed again and unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged it off, neatly folding it before putting it aside to wash later. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he was still hot, still sweating, and he was slowly growing dizzy. He had to lay down again, swallowing heavily, his eyes fluttering open and closed. He felt like shit, if he was being honest, but refused to acknowledge it. He was not about to skip work again just because of some shallow sickness. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was getting sick, this could be from stress and he’d feel better once he’d gotten some sleep.

Sleep had never sounded nicer. In fact, if he wasn’t so upset about not doing anything, he’d probably be napping right now, content to finally sleeping at least a little. And by god, he want to nap, he really did, but he couldn’t get himself to swallow his pride and sleep. He didn’t hate sleeping per say, but he didn’t exactly love it either. It’s not the sleep itself that he didn’t like, god knows the man enjoyed every single minute of sleep he could get, it was the fact that he wasn’t doing anything when he slept. Back in school, his dorm-mates had complained he’d mumble in his sleep, further confirming that he really never stopped talking, but that was all he did while asleep. He wasn’t working, wasn’t being useful, wasn’t serving a purpose. He was just laying there with his annoying and cumbersome mumbling, twisting and turning as he couldn’t even lay still when he slept. As he yawned again, he was faced with the sad truth that he really should get more sleep. He decided against eating something, feeling bloated and nauseous as he lay in his own misery, whining and whimpering every time his stomach churned. Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning but staying asleep till morning.

-

When Hamilton woke up the next day, he wasn’t feeling better. If possible, he was feeling even worse than the day prior. He’d taken his temperature before he went to bed and concluded he had a fever that ad only worsened overnight. He felt terrible, rolling around his bed, unable to escape the sweat following him, and the pain in his stomach only worsening every time he moved. All in all, he could do absolutely nothing that wouldn’t mean breaking into a sweat or hurting all over. His mind was foggy and his vision blurry. He couldn’t think and he felt miserable, unable to to do any of what he’d planned for the day. His hands were shaky as he reached for his phone to call Washington and- no. He wasn’t going to call. He was gonna man up, come into work and take it from there. Working had always made him feel better, and why would now be different? He took a few steadying breaths before getting up, and peeling off his pajama shirt that stuck to him grossly because of all the sweating. He moved slowly as he made his way to his wardrobe, picking out a suit and slowly putting it on. He dragged himself through his morning routine, only different thing being skipping coffee as he was sure he was going to throw it all up again. His tiny frame shivered in the cold of the outside, but he was still somehow sweating, feeling all cold and hot at the exact same time. He swallowed, sucking in a deep breath as he made his way down the block, not sure he was able to drive in this state. He’d just have to take the half hour walk to his office, no problem. His eyes squinted against the sun that was doing nothing to heat up the air as he walked on wobbly legs, probably looking ridiculous in his way of walking. All that was forgotten and thrown out the window as soon as he stepped foot inside the White House.

He avoided as many people as possible as he made his way through it, eyes occasionally falling shut and then snapping back open when he was about to fall. He plopped down onto his chair once he was inside his office, having promptly slammed the door behind himself. He rested a hand against his forehead, running it through his sweat slick hair. He swallowed again, letting his eyes drift close once more. They didn’t open again before his forehead had slammed down on the table, waking him up instantly. He breathed heavily, trying to block out the extra pain it added, already overwhelmed with all the other pain shooting through his body constantly. He yawned and winced when it only caused his headache to grow stronger. He was a mess, and not even a hot one, just a general mess ad he knows he should have stayed home but he’d rather try to get something done if he was gonna be equally miserable either way.

A knock on his door brought him back to a reality he hadn’t realized he’d left. Washington stepped in with a worried expression on his face, and Alexander prepared himself for a lecture.

“Son.”  
“Sir.”

Alex said resigned, having finally given up trying to stop Washington from calling him son. Washington examined him for a bit, noting the paleness of Alex’s skin, the darker than usual bags under his eyes, the sweat basically dripping from his face, how his eyes would flutter.

“Someone informed me they’d seen you looking ready to throw up as you almost fell in the hallway. I can see what they meant.”  
“Sir-”  
“Hamilton, you’re sick. You can barely keep your eyes open.”  
“Sir, I might be sick, but I’m still okay to work.”  
“I want you to go home.”  
“With all due respect-”  
“Go. Home. I will inform Jefferson that he’ll be starting the new project alone and will be joined by you once you feel better.”  
“Sir, I’m fine.”  
“You might be fine, but other employees might not be if they happen to catch whatever you have. I fully admire your determination but for others sake if not for your own, please, go home.”

Hamilton sighed resigned, but nodded anyways. He slowly got up, shaking. He swallowed again, black spots dancing across his vision as his body threatened to drop limp on the floor. He packed his things, swaying gently from side to side as he did. His eyes drifted again and he found himself on the floor.

“Son, I think you should see a doctor.”  
“Sir, I’ll be fine.”  
“At least let me have someone drive you home.”

Alexander didn’t argue, just nodded and let Washington help him up on his feet again.

“I’ll send Jefferson-”  
“Full offence Sir, but I’d rather walk than be in Jefferson’s car.”  
“Hamilton, you’re in no state to walk. If you want to get better so you can go back to work like I know you want to, you’ll let Jefferson drive you home. End of discussion.”

Washington said, leaving absolutely no room for argument. Hamilton sighed, swallowed again, nodding once more, and leaned against his desk. Washington walked out of the room, only to return with Jefferson in tow. Thomas looked less than amused that he’d have to stop his work to drive Alexander home. But then he caught sight of the man and his entire body language shifted. Instead of expressing how annoyed he was, it turned worried and careful, like Hamilton was gonna break if he wasn’t cautious. And fine, maybe Alex looked a little sick, but it couldn’t be so bad that even Jefferson was gonna treat him like glass.

“What happened to him?” Jefferson asked, snapping Alexander out of thought. His voice was smooth like always, but it betrayed him as worry slipped into his words. Alexander would have smirked if he didn’t feel like vomiting.

“It’s nothing.” he slurred, and even though Thomas didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, he didn’t pry any further. Alex grabbed his tightly packed suitcase and stumbled forward towards Thomas, leaning slightly on the other for support. Thomas didn’t seem to mind all that much and placed a hand on Hamilton’s back, gently guiding him out of the room. Alexander was nearly clinging to Thomas as they walked, his legs weak and nearly giving up under him.

“Carry me…” Alex mumbled under his breath.

“‘M sorry, what?” Jefferson asked, halting. They were halfway through the White House, and even though he’d heard Hamilton perfectly clear, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea to suddenly be carrying him around. They both had reputations that could be shattered in a heartbeat, and as much as Jefferson wanted Hamilton to get out his hair when it came to politics, he wasn’t about to ruin his entire career.

“Carry me.” Alexander muttered a little louder this time, his big brown eyes looking into Thomas’. They were pretty, but dulled from the sick, the usual passionate sparkle gone from them.

“Hamilton, I can’t, come on, we’re at the car soon.” Thomas encouraged as he had to basically drag Alexander.

They made it to his car eventually, Thomas opening the door for Alexander, the other stepping inside slowly. Thomas starts the engine and pulls out. Beside him, Alexander looked curiously around the car, not familiar with it. As organized as Jefferson usually was, his car was not. There were papers strewn around, most of them having been stepped on a good amount from being on the bottom of the car. He picked one up while Thomas was distracted, his head turned to see behind himself, and began reading it. It wasn’t anything of interest really, unimportant papers that no longer had use in Jefferson’s suitcase. Thomas looked back in front of himself and caught sight of Hamilton looking through his papers.

“Even when you’re sick out of your mind, you’re still trying to get dirt on me.” he said, focusing his eyes on the road.

“Not trying to get dirt on you, just curious.” Alexander murmured, putting the papers back down, leaning completely back against the seat. He rested his tired eyes, listening to Thomas mumble something he couldn’t quite make out.

The ride wasn’t long, and soon, Hamilton opened his eyes when he felt the car still. He blinked a few times, yawning as he stretched and instantly curled in on himself as pain shot through him. He whimpered and Thomas gave him a pitying look as he stepped out of the car and opened the door for Alexander, helping him out before locking the car. Alex was lead up the steps and into his house, none of the two uttering a word as they did so.

“My throat hurts.” Alex muttered quietly, as he winced when he yawned again. Thomas nodded in acknowledgement and went to get the blanket that had been discarded on the couch so he could wrap it around the other. Hamilton hummed gratefully and nuzzled into the fabric as he laid down onto the couch.

“Should I get you anything before I go?” Jefferson asked, looking down at Hamilton who was drowning in the huge blanket. It was almost cute, Thomas thought before Alexander talking brought him back from his thoughts.

“Just a glass of water.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah. I’m not hungry.”

Thomas nodded and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass and silence fell over the house once more, the only sound being the quiet pouring from the tap. He went back to Alexander and handed him the glass, Alex taking it gratefully before chugging the whole glass in one swig and then coughing violently when it went down wrong. Thomas was about to ask if he was okay when Hamilton just stuck his finger up, signaling he needed a second.

“I’m fine.”

Thomas sighed in relief, not exactly wanting Hamilton to die on him. Alexander relaxed back into the couch and let his eyes close again. He was still visibly sweating a lot, but knew better than to dry being in the cold. So he curled up completely. Jefferson watched him for a bit before taking the glass, refilling it and opening the door to walk out.

“Jefferson?” Alexander said from beneath the blanket ocean.

“Yeah?” Thomas asked.

“Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days, for Alexander, were filled with feeling like shit and throwing up. As soon as the illness came however, it was gone. Alexander was feeling better a mere two days after he’d gotten sick. Jefferson had stopped by a few times to check up on him, and every time Alex had wondered why he didn’t just text. Not that he had anything against the visits. He would never admit it, but he actually quite enjoyed them, liked knowing that despite their dynamic, Jefferson wasn’t heartless. But the visits also confused him emotionally. Why did Thomas care enough to come visit him to check up on him? Why did he care in the first place? Sure, Alexander didn’t hate Thomas, but he wasn’t sure if that was mutual. Jefferson despised him, he just didn’t want him to die because he couldn’t yell at Hamilton if he was dead.

Come to think of it, would Jefferson even show up at his funeral? He didn’t know why he was thinking about that, but he was, and now, he was genuinely curious. Would Thomas? Would he? Probably. But not to mourn. Rather, he would show up in that obnoxious magenta suit, go to his casket, and laugh at him. They were always fighting over having the last laugh, and Jefferson would make sure that it would be him. Unless, of course, Thomas died first. Alexander would show up to Thomas’ funeral. Not to laugh, though. It was morbid thinking, but flashes of either of them in caskets flew through his head. Maybe Thomas wouldn’t laugh. He couldn’t have sunk that low.

Why he was thinking about this in the first place, he didn’t know. It was disturbing and weird and he should stop before it triggered something. See, the thing with Alexander was, that he never knew whether something would trigger him or not. Somedays, something that usually didn’t, would set something off in him and he’d find himself clawing or cutting at his scarred skin. Something small could very easily seem so big, and something big could seem so small. Some days, things that should have triggered him didn’t, and other days, something that shouldn’t, did. After all this time, it still wasn’t predictable what would happen, and it was a wonder that he’d managed to keep his breakdowns to himself in a professional setting. That was, until a few days ago when he’d cried in the middle of a meeting. He was still embarrassed about it. He couldn’t believe how weak he’d been that day. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that.

He sat up in his bed, stretching. It no longer hurt to breathe or move and he thanked god for freeing him from that. He was in top shape and was feeling fresher than ever. Nothing quite like suffering for three days straight to clear your head. He got out of bed and dug through his closet for something to wear for the last day before going back to work. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really been at work the past week. First the breakdown then the illness. They hadn’t even needed him those days.

They hadn’t needed him.

He shook his head again. He wasn’t going to think like that, it’d only lead to no good. Instead, he tried to think that it was only good that he hadn’t been needed. It just meant nothing had flared up that needed attention. Yeah.

He pulled out a worn t-shirt, some trousers, and a cardigan. Pulled it all on and went to do his morning routine. Watched the pill bottle in the medicine cabinet like he was daring it to move. Daring it to do anything. He didn’t touch them. What would another day without medication be? He’d stopped taking them about two weeks ago anyways. Another day couldn’t be bad. Not worse than it was at least.

He went into the kitchen to make breakfast. It wasn’t going to be a lot, seeing as he never really had an appetite, but whenever Thomas came over to check on him, he’d always cooked something for him, and Alexander didn’t want to be rude or waste food, so he ate while Thomas watched. He’d gotten into somewhat of a rhythm of eating just a little on occasion so he wouldn’t accidentally starve himself. He hadn’t gained weight yet, but he knew it was to come, and he dreaded it. He was perfectly content being somewhat underweight, and he wouldn’t change it if he could. Okay, perhaps, if he could, he’d get smaller. There was something satisfying about not eating properly even when his stomach screamed for food, a sense of control flooding his system. But now Thomas had to come and cook for him every day, sometimes twice, and Alex knew he’d get pudgy if it continued.

Luckily for him though, he wasn’t sick anymore, didn’t need someone to come cook for him as he was too weak to do it himself. He didn’t need Jefferson coming into his house unannounced even if it was to be expected at this point. They weren’t supposed to act like this. They were supposed to be screaming at each other on the top of their lungs, maybe get in a fistfight if the mood called for it. When Jefferson came over, there was no screaming. There was no fighting. There was just him in the middle of Hamilton’s kitchen, cooking for a man he hated. It was oddly domestic and so so wrong. It gave a middle finger to their usual dynamic, their usual thing that seemed to work out perfectly. This. This wasn’t working out. Or maybe it was, and Hamilton just didn’t want it to. He didn’t want Thomas to show up and treat him like his husband, cooking for and taking care of him.

Their dynamic was something special, something almost sacred, something not to be messed with. It was the base of their relationship, of the hatred between them. Except… Hamilton still didn’t hate Thomas. He’d found that out quite early, this strange feeling that was something of anger but not hatred. He wasn’t sure he could say the same about Jefferson though. Alexander was a 100% sure that despite all the man had done for him, he still hated Alex. And, his brain supplied, he saw no reason for why it shouldn’t be like that. Alexander knew he was obnoxious and loud mouthed, completely annoying and in the way for Thomas.

But then again.

Thomas had brought him coffee that day. It wasn’t a big deal, a simple cup of coffee for a coworker, but it still stuck in Hamilton’s head. He remembered vividly throwing that cup of coffee down the drain while Thomas watched, and despite it being days ago, he still felt kind of bad. Jefferson had just tried to be nice. For whatever reason. Maybe it was a sign of truce? Hamilton didn’t know. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It simply was not part of how they worked. They both greatly enjoyed screaming at each other, it let them let their feelings out in a way that wouldn’t result in unhealthy coping mechanisms. Not that Alex was clean of any of those. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, but he was careless. Didn’t look when he crossed the road. Didn’t take his medication, and when he finally did, he just took however many that’d come out of the bottle when he shook it gently. He didn’t care for how many scars he had anymore as he’d just add to the mess a few days a week.

He knew a few people had caught on. Washington obviously knew, but stood powerless to stop him. He couldn’t threaten to fire Alex, not even just to make him stop, because he knew it’d worsen his state if he thought his job stood on the line. Washington had been the first to know about Alex’s self destructive behaviour besides his best friends. Alexander had come into his office one day, saying they needed to talk and had then confessed to everything. Washington had looked at him horrified, someone he cared for so much, like a son almost, had been doing this to himself for so long. He hadn’t known what to do so he pat Hamilton’s shoulder and told him that it was okay. Hamilton had nodded and they’d shaken hands and ended the meeting. Washington now knew to be a little more careful and Alexander had gotten a burden off his chest.

He was sure Thomas knew too. If he didn’t, he surely knew now. After his breakdown, Alexander had been a little more unstable, a little more jumpy and afraid. But he was almost entirely sure that Jefferson had known even before that. There’d been a situation where Hamilton had had an extremely bad day the day prior and had sliced an amount at his wrist, enough for it to look terrifying but not enough for him to take any real damage. He’d worn a shirt that was probably a little too short on the sleeves and it had pulled back to expose his wrist when he’d made a movement with his hand towards Jefferson, and had flashed his cuts before he could cover them up. He’d stormed away at an instant, not wanting to see Jefferson’s stupid face anymore that day.

Alexander snapped out of thought when there was a knock at his door. He didn’t really want to open it, knew it was Thomas stopping by before work to make him breakfast. He sighed and went to the door anyways, pulling it open. It wasn’t Jefferson standing there though.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me you were sick, I would’ve checked on you.”  
“John. Hi to you too.”

Hamilton stepped out of the way to let his friend in. John Laurens.

“I haven’t seen you in, like, a week. Where have you been? You haven’t texted me, or Laf, or Herc. Are you doing okay?” John asked, concern evident on his face.

“Yeah, I’m…” a pause, “I’m doing as good as I can.” Alexander responded. They sat down on his worn couch.

“Yo, Jefferson texted me?”  
“He what?”  
“Yeah, he was the one informing me you were sick. You should have told me Hammie. I would have come over.”

John looked genuinely hurt that Alex hadn’t told him. Hamilton understood why, he would be hurt too if his best friend was didn’t text him for a week only to have said best friend’s enemy text that best friend was sick.

“I’m sorry John, it completely slipped my mind. I wasn’t thinking properly. How did he even get your number?”  
“I think Laf gave it to him.”  
“Of course he did.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. Their friend, Lafayette, also happened to be friends with Thomas. It didn’t always work out because Laf occasionally would invite Thomas to the things they did, and Alex and Thomas would often get in each other’s faces pretty quick. Laf would pull them away from each other, tell them off, and sigh when asked to pick a side. John would always take Alexander’s side because he never actually bothered to get to know Thomas enough to doubt who to pick, but if he did, Laf insisted, he’d be annoyed with the question too.

Hamilton heard Laurens chuckle next to him.

“What I don’t understand though,” John started, “was why he didn’t just tell Laf and then tell him to tell Herc and I.”  
“I think it’s because Laf would question it.”  
“Probably.”

They sat in silence for a bit. Eventually John spoke up again.

“How have you been lately? No nothing I need to know about?” he asked, glancing not so subtly to Alexander’s arm. Alex shook his head.

“I’ve been a little busy with Washington sending me home for two days after a breakdown, and then getting sick soon after. I haven’t had time to properly hate myself.” he said.

“You had a breakdown?” John asked, eyes big, “and you didn’t tell us?”

“I’m sorry John, I just-” Alexander hesitated, “I don’t know… I would have told you guys, I should have, but then Jefferson texted me being such a mom and I forgot to tell you.”

“You’ve been texting with Jefferson? But not us?”  
“John, it’s not like that, he just- and then I realized I didn’t have any food in the fridge and he came over with some and then parented me when I was sick-”  
“You’re rambling.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you guys.” Hamilton sighed resigned.

“It’s okay,” John repeated. “You were busy, I get it. Besides, we should have texted you. We were worried but we did nothing. Expected you to be the first to text. My lord, you could have died and we’d be ignorant to it, all because we didn’t properly check up on you.”

Alexander winced at the word ‘died’.

“You know I always text you if I feel like that.” he spoke, looking at the floor.

“This time could have been different.” John sighed, running a hand through his hair. It came undone from his already messy ponytail, and he took it out and redid it.

“It wasn’t though.” Alex argued weakly.

“But it could have been. Alex, I know you, and you don’t always text us when you feel like shit. I just want what´s best for you, you know that. There’s been close calls. Calls where you didn’t text us. I’m just so, so worried that I’ll come to check on you one day where you won’t be here anymore.” John said, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He didn’t want to cry but he couldn’t help it. Taking care of Alex wasn’t a burden of any sort, but it was emotionally draining and their little group always worried that they would wake up one day and Alexander wouldn’t be there to greet them.

“I know,” was all Hamilton answered. All he could answer. He took a deep breath, “John, you’re the closest friend I’ve got.”

“Alexander? Do not throw away your shot…” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on instagram @ snolloon or tumblr @ snolloon


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